Through The Trees
by thetimids
Summary: OC 'slash' romance. (Though no hot sex under the stars or anything). Because who doesn't love sexual tension between the guys? c: Based on the 74th Annual Hunger Games. It's a work-in-progress. Very dramatic, or at least it will be when it hits that point. Will be a lot of conflict between characters, and lots of inclusion of the orginal tribute characters that were named.
1. Chapter 1 - Reaping Day

_This first chapter is quite slow. I had no idea how to start, so forgive me for being a little rusty.  
Besides, this is the first Hunger Games fanfiction I'm properly putting up. c:  
I do love Fane though, he's my baby. c': Hence why it's from his point of veiw.  
This will involve a lot more OCs, I'm sorry!_

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**CHAPTER ONE**

It was only the few rays of early morning sun that streamed in through the cracks in the boarded up windows that lit the room. This was usually the time of day that I enjoyed the most. When it wasn't dark enough not to be able to see your surroundings, but it wasn't light enough to make out every little detail. For instance the shabby old apple boxes that were serving as bedside cabinets could become treasure chests, filled with glorious riches from overseas.

I could usually spend hours doing this, re-inventing the room around me. Though today I couldn't bring myself to try and imagine more than one thing, I couldn't seem to muster up the heart or imagination.

In the dark I fumbled for my twin, wrapping my arms around him. I could hear the heavy sigh that fell from his lips, though he didn't bother to try and detach me. Maybe it was because Shane secretly needed as much comfort as I did today, or maybe it was because he knew that I needed it. Screwing my eyes shut tightly, I curl up into his side.

"Jesus, Fane. You're freezing." Shane mutters, flinching underneath my touch.

My pale green eyes opened, trying desperately to read his expression in the dimly lit room. I didn't need to see him to know what look he was wearing, by now it didn't take even a second guess.

Shane would be wearing that exasperated expression of his, the one where he just couldn't seem to muster up enough energy to feel sympathy towards me.

Not that I blamed him, of course. I had always been the needier twin, being a full ten minutes younger than my brother. For twins we were actually pretty different, not in looks, but in personalities. It was certainly not me who had inherited the overly-confident gene from our father; rather I had seemed to have been hit in the face squarely with the timid gene. I had never been angry or bitter towards Shane for being the dominant twin, in fact I felt the opposite. I was glad that it had been him and not me; because if there was one thing I couldn't stand it was attention. Never was I more nervous then when all eyes were on me. Thankfully, whenever I was around Shane, people seemed to pay much more attention to him than to me.

Despite all this, I wasn't _always_ as meek and pathetic as I could come across.

"What's up, kid?" Shane huffed, finally playing the big brother role and turning to scrutinize me.

"I'm scared, Shane." I admit quietly, chewing avidly on my lower lip.

There was no reply.

"Shane, what if it's me?" I peruse, unable to keep the trembling note out of my voice.

Still, only the silence cared to answer my questions.

"What if-"

"Just shut up, Fane!" Shane cut across me, quickly and sharply. He finally tore himself away from me, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed and standing to his full height, storming across the small room in his frustration.

I lay there for a few moments, unable to muster up the courage to go after my twin and apologise. Instead I stared up at the plain ceiling, counting the cracks in the peeling plaster with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew that I was being selfish. Why had I even bothered opening my mouth in the first place? Shane had never liked talking about it, which was why our family considering the whole topic a taboo subject. I couldn't help myself, though. I needed some reassurance, someone to tell me that everything was going to be okay. That my name wasn't going to come out.

The birds had been the first thing that taunted me.

I had found my solace underneath the broad canopy of an old tree. Leaning back against its thick trunk had made me feel safer than I had for a long time, even if it was all in my head. I guess that was what I liked about District 7; you always came across the odd tree that refused to be torn down in its pride. That was the kind of attitude that I needed to have, especially on a day like today.

However as I sat there, playing safe and reassuring thoughts in my head, the birds had begun to congregate on a low bough, trilling their tuneful song.

I raised my head slightly, looking up at them. They seemed to stare back down at me, almost smugly as each one then took off in flight once more, tracing circles through the air.

They were free.

I let a heavy sigh tumble from my lips, banging my head against the rough bark. What I would give for my freedom. Instead of being tied here, to await the same misery year after year. My name had yet to be drawn. There was still a chance though; each year I managed to escape only filled me with dread for the next one coming.

At least I wouldn't be one of the young ones this year.

Not that my name was going to come up, I hastily assured myself. But say it did. At least I wouldn't be like poor little Archiewin Fowler.

Archiewin had been my best friend when we were younger, or should I say my only friend, aside from Shane. He couldn't have been five days older than twelve when his name came out. I can still remember the look on his face when his name was read out for the whole of District 7 to hear. The way we clasped our hands together tightly for a few moments, before the older boys pushed him forward.

That year had been terrifying for me. Every day I had been glued to the television set, unable to move from my seat to go to school and learn just why my best friend was in such a horrific situation. It wasn't just me who watched my best friend die. The whole of Panem had seen it. Twelve year old Archiewin had been no match for eighteen year old Brutus and his sword. I remember Shane dragging me away from the screen.

A shiver ran up my spine at the memory. It played in my head like a movie reel. I looked down at my hands, not surprised to see that they had curled themselves into shaking fists.

"He was twelve!" I yelled at the sky.

Not even the birds were around to hear me. They must have been high above Panem by now.

But I was still here.

Trapped.

"Fane, will you please sit _still_!" My mother snapped, smacking me over the head with the back of the wooden hair brush.

I grumbled in response, fidgeting a little before finally settling down. I supposed I had to give her credit. Even though I was sixteen years old, she still knew how to make me feel like a child. She went back to attacking my hair with the wet hairbrush, trying against all odds to make it lie flat. It seemed my hair had managed to resist gravity, because no matter how hard you tried it would always end up sticking out at odd angles.

"Oh, I give up." Mother cried, tossing the hairbrush onto the dresser and sighing as she surveyed her handiwork.

I sprung up instantly, full of nervous energy. Shane had been lounging back on the bed, watching us with a grin placed upon his face. I suddenly envied him for being so care-free.

The grin was wiped off his face as our mother beckoned him over.

I couldn't bring myself to sit down; instead I kept pacing about the room and jumping at every little sound. Both Shane and our mother were beginning to grow irritable with my behaviour, their expressions both showed it clearly. I didn't have time to worry about that; instead I was too busy worrying that this year it would be one of us.

My other greatest fear was that Shane's name would be drawn. I knew I had no chance in Hell of being able to survive on my own without him; I didn't have the courage to do such a thing. I didn't think for a minute that he wouldn't be able to win – he had charisma and strength that seemed to have skipped me entirely. It was just that I knew I had no hope of staying sane while he was gone.

Shane and I argued a lot. One time I remember him saying that he hoped my name would be read out, because then maybe I'd learn to stand on my own two feet for once. I, of course, had cried a lot after that statement.

Deep down I'd always guessed that on some level he'd had a point. I couldn't go through my whole life standing in his shadow. One day I figured that I would have to distance myself from a bit. To be fair to myself I was much better than I had been when I was younger. Back then you wouldn't have found five minutes where I wasn't permanently attached to Shane, unable to speak a single word unless I had him by my side.

Work had a big part to play with it. We both had extremely different jobs, which meant that we had to use our own abilities instead of relying on each other for support. Or rather – me relying on Shane.

I had been fourteen when I had been offered my first job.

Shane had roped me into playing one of his favourite games; _'Provoke the Peacekeeper_.' To say things had gotten slightly out of hand would be something of an understatement. Luckily for us, being from District 7 meant there were always plenty of trees to climb. I had been terrified, so the first thing I had done was jump the wire fence that barricaded off Old Constance's garden. There was a rather large cluster of trees on his land, one of which towered high above the rest. I had scaled it in no time at all, too frightened of the Peacekeepers to be afraid of falling.

Old Constance, with ears like a bat, had come out to see what all the commotion was about. Luckily for me he was majorly impressed with my agility in climbing – which meant he did enough to ensure the Peacekeepers didn't give me any trouble – and offered me a job.

It was the one thing I was proud of. I suppose you could say that it helped me build a lot of confidence, so I should be thankful for Shane and his reckless antics.

My hand shook violently as I held out my hand to the man who sat before me. He didn't bother to look up at me as he pressed the cold metal into my fingertip, hastily pushing it against the crisp white page.

I hated the fact that they didn't even seem to care how frightened any of us were, but then they never did. I had never once seen any Peacekeeper show any sign of affection towards any of the kids in the District, or even a flicker of real emotion.

"You okay, kiddo?" Shane asked, ruffling my hair. I nodded, my lips pressed into a grim line. I knew I could count on him to step up to the plate. Even behind all our sibling rivalry, we both looked out for each other. His hand gave my shoulder a quick squeeze as he steered me amongst the crowds of crying children, gaunt parents and shell-shocked teenagers.

Shane and I watched the District 7 escort toddle up the wooden stairs to the stage, exchanging long glances. It had been a long-running joke of ours that one day Gretta's outfits would get a little too tight, or her heels a little too high, and she wouldn't be able to make it up those steps.

With one long finger she tapped the silver microphone, the noise echoing around the courtyard. "Welcome, welcome all of you, to the beginning of the 74th Annual Hunger Games." She paused to smile down at all of us, but I had yet to see once face smile back. "And remember; may the odds be _ever_ in your favour."

I whimpered quietly.

The Reaping had begun.

The girl's names always got read out first, it was customary. I wished that this wasn't true, because it only prolonged the tension that proceeded to tighten my chest. At least they got it over and done with quickly.

Gretta's hand plunged into the fish bowl.

"Wheezy Xander!" Her shrill voice rang out of every speaker.

Instantly we all looked around for the girl whose name had been spoken, every head in the crowd turning.

Finally a young girl stepped forward, her blonde waves tumbling around her shoulders in the breeze. A few people gasped – she couldn't be much older than fourteen. Still, despite looking nervous as she took her place on stage, she managed to remain composed. Her stormy blue eyes gazed out across the crowd evenly, displaying shock - not fear.

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding.

"What a darling." Gretta crooned, gesturing towards Wheezy.

She took one step to the left on her precarious heels, dipping her hands into the second bowl. I watched as her acid green fingernails trailed through all the slips of paper, before they finally snatched a single name from the bunch.

"Fane Cyrus."

And my heart leapt in my throat.

Realisation crashed around me, like waves hitting the jagged rocks. My whole body seemed to seize up, jaw locking as I gritted my teeth. I knew what happened to the tributes who displayed their reluctance - they got labelled as dead meat before even setting foot in the arena.

But I so desperately wanted to cry.

I looked quickly at Shane, who was watching me with a look of horror splashed across his face. Finally, after what seemed like an age, my twin pushed me forward – parting me from the crowd.

Defiantly, I tilted my head towards the inky blue sky, staring straight ahead as I took a rather wooden step forward. I felt rather detached from my own body as it made its own way up the stairs and onto the platform.

It really hit home when I glanced out across that crowd, able to read so many faces at once.

There was one pair of eyes that I deliberately sought out, but my twin brother was having a hard time even looking at the stage. Yet the look on his face was the easiest of all to read.

_'Better him than me.'_

I tore my eyes away from him, gritting my teeth again as I stared blankly at the sickly colour of Gretta's shoes. I wasn't going to let anything get to me, not even the fact that my own twin was happy I was stood up here.

"So there we have it, our two new tributes. What an honour this is!" Gretta trilled, annoyingly cheerful.

She thought this was an honour? Great, then she could take my place.

Suddenly my arm was thrust up into the air, and it took me a moment to register that she had grabbed hold of my wrist.

One face stood out from the crowd. _Shane_. My twin had finally managed to bring himself to make eye-contact with me. There was nothing in his expression that showed any remorse for the events that had unfolded in front of him, he just seemed to be content with the fact that he was on the other side of the stage.

I yanked my arm free of Gretta's talons, my eyes beginning to sting from all the effort holding back my tears.

"Tributes shake hands!" Gretta almost ordered, looking between the two of us and then back at the cameras and smiling broadly.

Pushing, what I hoped was, a nonchalant look onto my face I stepped forward, extending my arm to the female. Her pale blue eyes met mine, her hand gripping firmly at my forearm.

Only we knew the other was shaking.


	2. Chapter 2 - Last Goodbyes

_So this is shorter than the last one because basically I couldn't be bothered to do the whole thing amazingly well, because it's not that much of an interesting part to the story. It just needs to be here. :3_

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**CHAPTER TWO**

Behind closed doors I cried like a baby.

There was no way on Earth that I'd ever be able to kill somebody as young as Archiewin had been, even if I didn't have that memory still imprinted fresh in my mind.

I wasn't suggesting that I wouldn't kill _anybody_. If somebody came at me with a knife, I would still try to defend myself like any other person would do. But I just couldn't kill somebody just for being in the arena with me. Not like a Career could. Because how was I going to be able to shake of the fact that they all had lives and homes and families that they wanted to get back to? That wasn't the sort of thing that slipped off your conscience at the drop of a hat.

The heavy door suddenly swung open, and mother walked in, her eyes red and puffy. I hadn't seen her looking so fragile since Father died.

She knew. She _knew_ that I was going to die.

"Fane, honey, listen to me. You'll be okay." Mother murmured, pulling me into a tight hug and stroking my hair. For once I was glad that she had the power to make me like a little kid again. At least that way I'd be safe.

I knew that I wasn't going to be okay though. It wasn't likely that somebody from a non-Career District would win the Hunger Games. Not unless they were really good. I wasn't good. I've said it before, and I'll say it again – I have always depended on Shane.

I buried my face into her shoulder again, feeling the tears slowly dampening the sleeve of her cotton dress. As I took in her homely scent, of pinewood and blossoms, I suddenly realised just how much I was going to miss her. There was going to be no motherly figure for me in the arena – just a bunch of kids who wanted to kill me.

"I-I-" I began, but I tripped over my own words, unable to get anything out as I clung to her.

She pulled away from me, a watery smile placed upon her pale lips. "Be a good boy." She murmured softly, straightening out my collar and taking a deep, shaky breath inwards. Reaching up, she patted the top of my head softly. "And don't forget to comb your hair."

I almost choked on my tears.

It seemed like that was too much for her, as she quickly retreated out of the room, leaving me alone once more.

I dropped to the ground, curling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. Everything seemed so utterly hopeless all of a sudden, I wasn't ready for this. Tears spilled out over my cheeks, making me feel even more pathetic than usual. I was sixteen years old for Christ-sakes! I shouldn't be being such a baby.

My head jerked upwards as the door opened once more, leaving me face to face with Shane.

For once I didn't want to speak to him.

"Fane..." He began to say, his voice uncharacteristically sober.

My eyes kept themselves trained on the floor, unable to look up at my twin. It wasn't as if I had wanted him to volunteer for me, or anything extreme like that – I had just needed to know that he cared even a little that his twin was going to die.

"Fane, please look at me." He sighed, sitting down cross-legged beside me, tilting his head to peer underneath my brown fringe. Slowly, his arm snaked around my shoulders, pulling me close.

"I'm going to die, Shane!" I cried, shaking my head violently. "I'm going to die." I repeated in a small voice, blinking my pale green eyes. There was no hope for me. I was just going to have to make use of my last days alive.

Shane looked thoroughly taken aback, his own green eyes wider and more vulnerable than I had even seen them. That was normally an expression I wore. "You can't think like that." He whispered, sounding distressed.

"What else am I supposed to do, Shane?" I demanded, throwing my arms up in the air in exasperation. I had to accept the fact sooner rather than later. I couldn't cry about it while I was around the other tributes now, could I? "You know I'm not going to survive for a minute in that arena."

"Shut the fuck up, Fane!" I watched as my twin scrambled to his feet, his face holding a suddenly stormy glare.

I winced at how harsh his words sounded in the empty room, tears prickling my eyes. "Why?" I mumbled thickly, my voice choked with sobs. "Why should I?"

"Because I'm not going to watch my twin die!" The shout was so loud it seemed to echo around the room.

I stared up at him blankly, unable to keep the shock from flickering across my pale face.

Shane was still scowling at me as he reached down and hooked his fingers through my own, yanking me to my feet beside him. Never in my whole life had I seen him as angry as he was now. I was almost afraid of him. My body knew it too; every inch of me was trembling uncontrollably.

"So you're going to keep your mouth shut and get out there." Shane ordered flatly. "You're going to give it everything and you're going to _win_."

He sounded so determined that I could barely do anything but nod meekly. This was the brother I knew, not the quiet boy from moments before.

Finally, he pulled me forward into such a tight hug that he very nearly crushed my ribs. "Father would be proud of you." Shane said evenly, ruffling my hair.

I clung onto him tightly, squeezing my eyes shut. It felt like I was twelve years old all over again. We'd been closer than ever after finding out about our father dying. You could say it was the only time that our relationship was really interdependent.

"I'm scared." I said, for the second time that day.

However, this time Shane didn't tell me to shut up. Instead he let a slow sigh fall from his lips. "I know. We all are."

That was when the Peacekeeper came knocking.

When I say knocking I'm using the term loosely. The armoured man stormed into the room, and he didn't need to lift the visor from his face to know that he was scowling. His head turned quickly from me, to Shane, then back to me again.

I saw Shane crack a smile.

He didn't know who was who. Shane could've been the tribute for all he knew.

"Out, get out. Your time's up!" He barked, turning sharply on his heels and beginning to walk out the room.

"Excuse me, which one of us are you talking to?" Shane asked politely, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

"You know exactly who." The Peacekeeper snarled viciously over his shoulder.

"I do, but I don't think you do." Shane was practically creasing up with laughter at the Peacekeepers annoyance. Again, I was zapped back to my fourteen year old self, being dragged along to play Shane's favourite game. I watched the both of them carefully, my teeth sinking into my lower lip.

The Peacekeeper seemed to have clicked onto who was who now. Obviously it was a slight gamble on his part, but anybody would have made the same assumption. Of course it was going to be the nervous wreck who had been picked as the tribute.

"Don't you dare." The Peacekeeper cautioned steadily, whipping around and grabbing hold of Shane's arm and tugging him backwards towards the door.

Involuntarily I reached forward for him, but Shane waved a hand in dismissal. He was still laughing as the Peacekeeper practically manhandled him out of the door. I flinched as the heavy wood slammed shut behind the two of them, unable to move an inch from where I was stood.

The knot of worry in my stomach seemed to have tripled since the moment my name had been called. I hoped desperately that my twin was going to be okay, that he hadn't annoyed the Peacekeeper too much.

Shane never knew when to quit.

He'd been the most notorious troublemaker District 7 had seen for a long time. I'd had to call on Old Constance for favours more than once on Shane's behalf, knowing that the old man had more pull over the Peacekeepers than anybody else in our District. The secret deal that Old Constance and I had come up with was that every time the Peacekeepers let Shane off – I would put my name in one more time.

No wonder my name had come up today.

A nervous laugh slipped from between my lips at the irony of my situation. Panic suddenly stabbed at my chest. Now that I was a tribute – the deal wasn't going to last. My hand flew to my mouth in horror. I guess I just had to pray, to whatever kind of God that was up there, that Shane would behave. As far as I knew, Shane had never done something that would cause the Peacekeepers to carry out any form of drastic punishment; he just gave them a little nudge here and there.

I leant back against the wooden panelling, my heart thudding against my ribcage like a frightened bird. There was no way I was going to be able to pull this off, was there? Something less like hope and more like desperation burned inside of me, because I had to see this through to the end. I just had to.

My mind began to wander, trying desperately to think of all the ways that the past tributes had become victors.

Tributes had pulled all sorts of things out of the bag over the years, our father used to tell us the stories of all the impressive victories from when he was a young boy. I remember him mentioning one tribute that had used the Gamemaker's very own designs against them, winning a Quarter Quell that had been twice the number of usual tributes.

The twenty-four tributes that I had to face were almost impossible for me to fathom, let alone the forty-eight that he would have hand to deal with. I shuddered at the thought.

The faint murmur of voices suddenly reached my ears.

I looked around cautiously for a moment or two, running my fingers through my tousled brown hair and creeping softly towards the left wall, brows furrowing. Despite knowing that it wasn't my place to be eavesdropping on people, I just couldn't help myself.

It had been something that I would always do, right from a young age. Shane and I had always listened at the doors to strain to hear our parents planning out birthday. I was the only one who ever got caught.

Pressing my ear against the wall and resting my hands either side, I held my breath and tried to make out exactly what the disembodied voices were saying. I could just make out the faint, trembling voice that distinctly belonged to an old woman. It was a struggle to hear just what it was that she was saying.

"Sweet-heart... these are the eyes that an old Grandma leaves behind, to guard her grandchild..."

I wasn't sure if I was jealous or not. Her goodbye seemed to be so much simpler than mine – almost delicate in comparison. Suddenly, I felt awash with guilt for trespassing on such a sentimental moment.

"You're all that I have left... my little may flower."

Shit. Now I felt even worse than I had done beforehand. At least Shane and mother had each other to rely on, this girl really was all that this old lady had. What if Wheezy not coming home meant that she would die alone – or of heartbreak?

Then there was the sudden sound of a door being thrown open, and I jerked backwards suddenly.

This was just perfect. Because now it felt a lot more like I should be getting Wheezy home to safety.


End file.
